


ten children, one acquarium

by jemejem



Series: Andreil Week 2k19 [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cute, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage - Freeform, foster children au, its the kid!fic, tw in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-06-25 12:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemejem/pseuds/jemejem
Summary: wymack loves his kids: even the ones that aren't his.





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Abby hedged. “I mean—the aquarium is lovely, yes. But not with ten children, David.”

“It’ll be fine.” He waved off her concern as they strolled down the sidewalk: Ahead of them was the gaggle of kids that she scrutinised. His son, Kevin. His adoptive daughter, Dan. His fostered children: Renee, Andrew, Aaron and Seth. Dan’s best friend, Matt, and Aaron and Andrew’s cousin, Nicky. And of course, their favourite, little Neil. Neil, who had just turned nine, but spat out words like spitfire. 

Wymack was happy to foster him—Matt, Allison and Nicky too—if their parents would just be investigated by CPS already. Matt’s father was a neglectful socialite, as was Allison's mom. Nicky’s parents were bigoted reformists, and Wymack had already noticed changes in the 12 year-old’s behaviour since his parents tried to send him to a conversion therapy. God, they were so _young._

But Neil. Wymack had no idea what to do with Neil. He came over with patches of ripped-out hair and bruises and stiff movements that suggested pain. He was sure that his mother was over-protective, but he had no clue whether or not it was his father contributing to the mess of it all. Whatever was happening, he had never really opened up to any of them except for Andrew. He followed Kevin around like a puppy though. Maybe Wymack could get through to him like that. 

“Alright, dinguses.” He called out, shepherding them into a small huddle. “Tickets first, fish later. Who’s excited?” 

There was a screaming chorus. Abby laughed into his shoulder. 

Like most outings, it started pleasant, but spiralled within a quarter of an hour. Allison and Seth vanished: Renee had to reign Nicky in from scooping starfish out of the touch-tank and stealing it, Andrew and Neil ran ahead, whilst Kevin took care to read every single information plaque available. Dan was between him and Matt, holding both their hands: They were just at the age that Matt realised he was _like_ liking his bestest friend, and looked at her with flushed cheeks. Abby bopped him on the nose and he smiled at her. 

“Aaron,” Wymack called. “Come on.”  
“Quit sulking!” His cousin jostled the younger blonde boy. Aaron didn’t uncross his arms, so Wymack let go of Dan’s hand to go pick him up and carry him on his back. The twins were ten and a half, but they were small enough that he could carry both of them at once. 

“What’s up?” He asked. 

Aaron pouted. “I wanted to go over to Katelyn’s house.”

Katelyn was their neighbour: Aaron was very intrigued by her ever since he'd moved in with the Wymacks nine months ago. Mostly because Aaron loved that surgery game where the body buzzed if you hit the metal rim, and she had the most recent version. Aaron had come home from her house once with a daisy crown the other day, looking very pleased. 

“Aren’t you going to do your homework with her tomorrow?”

Aaron hmphed. 

“We can’t always do what we want.” Wymack reminded him. “But I thought you’d like the aquarium, Aaron. There’s lots of different animals. Didn’t you want to see the stingrays?”

He perked up. “Can I go with Nicky now?”

“So long as you don’t let him steal any, and that you wait for us to catch up. Yes, go on.”

Aaron squirmed till Wymack let him go, grabbing his cousin by the wrist and dragging him off. 

Wymack saw Andrew peering around the corner at him, obviously angry. Neil tugged on his wrist and said something into his ear, but Andrew brushed him off. 

Wymack rose his eyebrows up at him, but Andrew looked away, disappearing into the shadows again. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to get through to him.” Wymack murmured. 

Abby jostled him. “It’s only been a few months. Give it more time.”

He nodded, and went back to holding Dan’s hand and listening in on Kevin and Matt’s excited chatter. Maybe not all ten of these children were his, but he felt a duty of care over them regardless. He’d help them, if it was the last thing he did. 

*

Abby had taken all the girls to the bathroom, whilst Wymack stayed and watched over the rest as they ate lunch. They’d brought packed lunches, with sandwiches of everyone’s favourite flavours. Kevin had a salad sandwich, the miniature adult he was, whilst the girls, Matt, Seth, Aaron and Nicky had peanut-butter jelly. Neil had one too, whilst Andrew had Nutella, but they’d mysteriously sourced french-fries from the aquarium’s only cafe. 

Wymack left the larger huddle of children to walk towards where Neil and Andrew sat together, nestled in a shadowy corner like they wanted to disappear. 

Neil quickly hid the fries, like Wymack hadn’t already seen them. He let out a huff. “You’re not very good at hiding those fries, Neil.”  
Andrew brandished a plastic knife at him. He took a wary step back, holding up his hands. 

“Don’t touch him.” Andrew warned. Wymack didn’t like the look in his eye. “And don’t touch my brother again. We know what men like you do.”  
Neil was trying to hide the fearful trembling of his hands by fisting them in Andrew’s shirt sleeve. 

Wymack’s heart ached for these boys. He sighed, sitting down in front of them. They both flinched back. 

“Can I have the knife, Andrew?” 

“No.” Neil said fiercely. “Lola says that too. You just want it so you can hurt him.”

“Okay.” Wymack said placidly. Realistically, he was in no danger from a ten-year-old and a knife, but it was still alarming. “You’ve been living with me for a long while now, Andrew. Have I ever tried to hurt you?” 

Slowly, Andrew shook his head. 

“Have I ever tried to hurt any of my kids? I know you take good care of them. You would know if I did.” The thought made him feel sick. 

Andrew shook his head again. 

“I know how much you like promises, Andrew.” Wymack said gently. “I promise that I would never, ever hurt you, or your brother, or Neil or your cousin, or any of you. Ever. I don’t mind if it takes you a long time to trust me. But I think you should stop pointing a plastic knife at me in public, Andrew.”

Andrew’s hand slowly lowered. Neil’s fingers rewound themselves in his sleeve. 

“And Neil,” Wymack said. “I didn’t want to ask because it is scary. But you have seen that I look after children with bad parents. Do you want me to look after you?” He opened his palm out to Neil. “I can make sure your mother and father never hurt you again.”

His lip trembled. Andrew nudged him with encouragement. Slowly, he nodded. 

*

“What’s one more, right?” Abby said jokingly. Wymack could tell she was relieved. She’d patched Neil up enough that she had formed a maternal yearning over the child, wanting to shield him from the cruelness of the wider world. Wymack had never asked what she’d found under Neil’s shirt, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his anger in check if he did. 

“We’ll call CPS in the morning.” Wymack said. Abby smiled warmly and kissed his forehead as she packed up her knitting for bed. Wymack heaved himself out of the chair and turned off the television

All the kids were asleep, worn out from their outing. They were spread out across three rooms: The girls, the older boys, and the twins. 

Wymack already knew where Neil would fit in. He took his wife’s hand and went to bed.


	2. one child, seven years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew's story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT TW: non-graphic descriptions of self-harm and rape

When Andrew was nine and a half years old, he walked into what was his thirteenth foster home with his brother at his side. The two of them had been reunited via the system only at the start of the year, what with Aaron’s (and thus, Andrew’s) biological mom overdosing. Despite the new-found family, they clung onto each other and refused to be separated again. 

It was near impossible to find a house that wanted both the twins. But, when Andrew was exactly nine years and seven months old, they’d found one. 

David Wymack and his girlfriend, Abigail Winfield, had long ago opened their doors for foster children. When Andrew walked up he stairwell, he passed by various bedrooms, where beady-eyed kids were peering out at the newcomers. 

Andrew would figure out pretty quick that Kevin was Wymack’s biological son, and Danielle Wilds was officially adopted. The others (being Renee Walker and Seth Gordon) had been there for years, but their adoption cases weren’t being processed very fast. 

Andrew also soon found out that Matthew Boyd and Allison Reynolds hung around as Wymack’s kids closest friends and the man’s future projects. Nicholas was interesting. He hated it when he had to go home—more than the others did—and would hold onto his cross and pray for himself to be ‘fixed’. Andrew didn’t know what that meant. 

Aaron quickly made friends with a girl across the road. Katelyn would be going to the same elementary school they did when the summer was over, but Andrew didn’t really like her. She was _boisterous._ Andrew liked that word. It was a good word. 

He and Aaron had moved into the Wymacks’ house two weeks before summer ended, and Andrew spent the lead-up to school sleeping poorly and growing crankier by the day. When was Wymack going to come and hurt him? Men like him always did. Andrew hated surprises: He stayed up all night just in case he unlocked the door and snuck in like the others had. 

Aaron had never known what _that_ was like, and it was important that Andrew protected him. Aaron was his brother. His _twin._

When Andrew was almost nine years old and eight months, the school year was just about to start. Wymack took Andrew and Aaron out shopping, and whilst Abby helped Aaron get some shoes (If they fit Aaron they would fit Andrew), Wymack guided Andrew to the backpacks. 

“I don’t want to leave Aaron.” Andrew said stubbornly, crossing his arms with a furrow in his brow. “He does not like Abby. What if she hits him like his mom did?”

“Abby has never, ever hit any of our children.” Wymack said, carefully putting a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “She never will. Aaron is perfectly safe with her, okay?”

Andrew stepped out of his reach. Wymack only sighed, directing Andrew to a different isle. When Andrew was asked to buy a lock for his and Aaron’s bedroom, Andrew chose the deadbolt, and felt a little better about living in the Wymack’s house by the end of the day. 

*

When Andrew was nine years old and probably ten months, he met Nicholas Hemmick. Aaron hugged the other boy, who was two years older, with complete abandon. Andrew knew that Aaron had come from Palmetto, but he had no idea who this was. 

Nichy, as it so happened to turned out, was his cousin. Both Andrew and Aaron rejected their aunt and uncle’s offer to let them stay at their house, because Nicky said it wasn’t a good idea. He was withdrawn and lonely. Andrew decided he could stick around.

*

When Andrew was just past his tenth birthday, a small child appeared in his math class. He was narrow and flighty, his eyes bouncing everywhere with a nervous capacity that rivalled Nicky around his parents. He shuffled to the teacher, handing her a note, before stumbling up to the back of the class. 

His hair was very red. Almost blood red, Andrew noted. And his eyes were sky blue. California sky blue, but prettier. Bluer. He had freckles across his nose and hands, and he pulled his sleeves up over his wrists to hide the bruise on his forearm when he caught Andrew looking. 

“Are you new?” Andrew asked. 

“I’m in third grade.” He said, timid. Almost terrified. “But they put me in fourth grade math because I can already do the baby stuff.”

“Nerd.” Andrew decided. The boy glowered at him, tapping his fingers against the desk. Eventually, he grew too restless and pulled a notepad out of his bag, hastily scrawling a note with his little yellow pencil. 

_your the one with harry potter books in your bag, nerd._

Andrew poked his tongue out at the boy and wrote back: _learn how to spell you’re before you try bullying me, nerd._

The boy shook his head, curls bouncing. 

_I’m Neil._

_Andrew._

_Nice to meet you._

_Can’t say the same about you._

>:(

*

Andrew, Aaron and the rest of the Wymack children were enjoying the last of the twin’s tenth birthday cake from the other day in their packed lunches: Half of the cake had been Aaron’s favourite (boring vanilla) whilst the other was Andrew’s (red-velvet with chocolate icing and sprinkles). It was very yummy. Abby was very good at making cakes. 

They had also both got a birthday present - it was the first time Andrew had ever gotten a birthday present - and Andrew thought his was pretty amazing. The Harry Potter books were always checked out from the library, so when he found all seven of them bound in ribbon with his name written on a card on top (very messily: Nicky had wanted to practise his cursive writing), he’d had a difficult time hiding how excited he was. He didn’t like showing people when he was excited, in case they tried to take away the thing that made him happy. 

Now it was lunch time in the cafeteria, and Andrew was ignoring everyone in favour of reading.

Until, that is, a small hand tapped on his shoulder. 

“I know what to call you, now.” Neil said. They’d passed notes to each other for the entirety of the math class: Neil was very good at being sneaky. “Geek. You’re a geek.”

“You’re still a nerd.” Andrew said accusatorially. His family were looking curiously at Andrew’s new friend: Andrew _never_ made any new friends. He tried his very best to be left alone. But this was different. He shuffled over on the bench and patted the gap between him and Kevin. “Sit down.”

“Why?” Neil said, suspicious. He had enormous eyes. 

“Do you have any other friends you want to sit with?” Andrew said, looking around and seeing no one with any remote interest in Neil. “No. So sit down.” 

Neil slowly sat down and was promptly overwhelmed by the Wymack family’s enthusiasm. He stammered out his name, his age, his favourite food (strawberries) and his favourite colour (grey). How did he meet Andrew? Why did he like math? Has he always lived in Palmetto? 

When Allison and Kevin were briefly arguing over the merits of honey popcorn, Neil tugged on Andrew’s sleeve. 

“Your family ask a lot of questions.” He said, quietly. 

“Uh huh.” Andrew was too absorbed in his book: Harry was about to enter the Chamber of Secrets for the first time. A small gurgling noise interrupted him, and Neil looked down at the table with red cheeks. 

“Have you had lunch?” Andrew asked. Neil slowly shook his head. “Why not?”

“Sometimes my father gets upset at me and I’m not allowed to.” He shrugged. Andrew had never heard someone call their dad _father_. “It’s okay. I’ll have something when I’m home after Exy practise.”

Kevin perked up. 

Andrew pushed over his second cake slice. “Have this.” Aaron eyed him, surprised that he was even _offering._ Andrew was very protective over his cake. “I don’t want it.”

Neil’s big blue eyes widened till they were two perfect moons, taking the cake and slowly nibbling on it whilst he kept it close to his chest, scared of anyone taking it away from him. 

“Phank you.” He mumbled through a mouthful of icing, just as Kevin jostled him and demanded to know what he knew about Exy. 

Renee smiled at Andrew from across the table and gave him a thumbs-up. 

  
Andrew rolled his eyes. They were all so silly. 

*

When Andrew was ten and a half, they all went to the aquarium for Neil’s ninth birthday. 

Between first meeting Neil six months prior and Neil’s birthday, Andrew had become just as protective over Neil as he was of Aaron. Neil did not like Wymack at all, growing very scared whenever Wymack was near him. He didn’t want to talk to Abby. He was reluctant when he was asked to play Exy with the others, and was never really allowed to come over to Andrew’s home. 

Andrew had only gone to Neil’s home once, when Neil forgot his school bag at Andrew’s house. A tall man with Neil’s hair and eyes answered the door to take the bag out of Andrew’s hand. 

“Can I say hello to Neil?” He asked. 

The man crouched down with a beseeching smile. “ _Neil_ is busy. You’re his best friend, Andrew, aren’t you?”

Andrew nodded. 

“I don’t want Neil to be friends with you anymore.” He said, standing up. “I don’t want Neil to be friends with you, nor any of your siblings. Understood?”

“It doesn’t matter what you want.” Andrew stood as tall as he could. “Neil decides.”

“Neil’s decision will be between being home-schooled or finding better friends.” The man said. “Leave, runt.” 

Andrew turned on his heel and sprinted home. 

Neil had _not_ abandoned Andrew, like Andrew thought he would. Instead, he pretended to be friends with other boys from a near-by prep school, playing on their Exy team and going to the park with Andrew and the other kids under the pretence of going with these ‘Raven Boys’. 

Neil even told Andrew that Neil wasn’t his real name. Nathaniel Wesninski was: He’d lost his front tooth, so it sounded more like “Naphaniel Weffninki”. He didn’t know why his father gave him a new name for school. Something about ‘Not wanting to be found’. Andrew much preferred Neil Josten to the boy’s real name. 

Andrew did not like Neil’s father. He obviously hurt Neil—Andrew had taken Neil to Abby enough times to know that much—and his mother wouldn’t do anything to stop the man. Andrew had been in the Wymack’s house for almost nine months now, and friends with Neil for six of them. He needed to do something. 

Andrew looked over to where Wymack was walking, only to see he was holding Aaron up on his back. His brother was blissfully unaware of how much danger he was in as he talked to Wymack, resting his grumpy face on Wymack’s shoulder. When Wymack finally put Aaron down, Andrew felt as though he could breathe easier and avoided the curious look Wymack gave him. 

He carefully took Neil by the sleeve and they walked towards the shark tank to avoid the older man. It was the one place Neil definitely wanted to go: He bounced around on his toes as they walked along the narrow pathway, cutting through glass tunnels. Light was dappled across Neil’s skin and hair. He looked very happy. 

“Best birthday ever!” He insisted, running himself ragged from exhibit to exhibit whilst Andrew walked slowly and calmly. “Also, look what I got from my father’s drawers:” He held up a small five-dollar note.

  
“What if he hurts you?” Andrew hissed, looping his fingers around Neil’s wrist to pull up the boy’s sleeve. A large handprint was obvious on his forearm and Neil tugged his sleeve down, ashamed. 

“He won’t know.” Neil insisted. “I want French fries. I know you want French fries too, ‘Drew. C’mon.”

They bought them quickly and hid the box as they walked back to the rest of the Wymack family. When everyone’s packed sandwiches were given out, Andrew pulled Neil away from the rest of the group to sit in a small, sheltered alcove. A little fish tank was above them, and emitted a blue glow that made Neil’s eyes glitter. They slowly shared the fries, savouring them. 

That was, until Wymack made his way over. 

“Hide them, quickly.” Andrew urged. Neil shuffled them behind his back and clenched his hands into fists, hiding them in his lap. 

  
The man wore cargo shorts and a tag necklace around his neck. His hair was shaggy in a cool way, and Andrew wanted tattoos like him when he grew up. Even if he looked cool, Andrew didn’t trust the man, because how could he trust any man? Seeing him with Aaron proved that no one was good. No one was safe. 

“You’re not very good at hiding those fries, Neil.”

Neil tried his best not to shake, but Andrew decided he’d had enough and pointed the plastic knife he’d stolen at Wymack. “Don’t touch him. And don’t touch my brother again. We know what men like you do.”

The man put his hands up slowly, dropping from the crouch to sitting on the floor in front of them. Andrew put his other hand out to hold Neil’s sleeve with the boy flinched. 

“Can I have the knife, Andrew?” He asked. 

“No.” Neil said, his voice shaky but his frown very angry. “Lola says that too. You just want it so you can hurt him.”

“Okay,” Wymack agreed, retracting the open hand. “You’ve been living with me for a long while now, Andrew. Have I ever tried to hurt you?”

They wouldn’t have stayed so long if he had. He shook his head.

“Have I ever tried to hurt any of my kids? I know you take good care of them. You would know if I did.”

Andrew had never noticed anything but safety and happiness and familiarity in the Wymack house. It was too good to be true, but he had to shake his head again. He couldn’t lie. 

“I know how much you like promises, Andrew.” Wymack said gently. “I promise that I would never, ever hurt you, or your brother, or Neil or your cousin, or any of you. Ever. I don’t mind if it takes you a long time to trust me. But I think you should stop pointing a plastic knife at me in public, Andrew.” 

Neil tugged on Andrew’s sleeve again. Andrew lowered down the plastic knife, hiding it in his lap once more.

“And Neil,” Wymack said. “I didn’t want to ask because it is scary. But you have seen that I look after children with bad parents. Do you want me to look after you?” He opened his palm out to Neil. “I can make sure your mother and father never hurt you again.”

Yes, that would be perfect. Andrew could protect Neil all the time if Neil lived with him. He wouldn’t be hurt anymore: He wouldn’t have to be scared of being Andrew’s friend. He poked Neil and nodded enthusiastically. 

When Neil told Wymack yes, it was a very good feeling. Neil would be safe, now. Andrew would make sure of it. 

*

When Andrew was a bit over twelve and a half, Neil started at his middle school. It had not been fun last year, being at different schools all day, every day. Andrew had Kevin and Aaron but Neil didn’t have anyone. Andrew missed him. 

This year would be much better. 

“Your brother’s getting himself suspended again.” Said some random in the hallway. 

Andrew narrowed his eyes. Aaron had never been suspended before. They must be talking about Neil. “What did he do?”

“Sock Hawking, probably.” Andrew was sure the kid’s name was Robin. He’d seen her hanging around Neil between classes. 

Sure enough, Andrew found Neil waiting outside the principal’s office, Hawking sulking with an icepack to his eye. Neil was thankfully unscathed. 

“Wymack’s coming.” Neil said, kicking his foot out at Andrew, who caught it easily. Neil pouted, wriggling out of his grasp.

“What happened?” Andrew asked lowly. “You promised you’d stay out of trouble.”

Neil deflated. “He just wouldn’t shut up. Kept calling Nicky a—you know. F-A-G. I had to do it.”

Andrew pinched Neil’s cheek and got to his feet. He had to get to class anyway, though he would have much preferred to stay by Neil’s side. Before he left, he leaned into Hawking’s ear—though the asshole was almost in high school and much, _much_ bigger than Andrew—to whisper: 

“If you touch my things again I’ll make sure everyone knows that picture of the hideous butt-crack from last year was you.” 

Hawking blinked rapidly with the one eye that wasn’t covered with an icepack before reaching out to Andrew with his fists ready. “How did you—“

Andrew simply saluted, glancing over his shoulder to wink at Neil. Neil just rolled his eyes and waved back. He was probably the sassiest ten year old that ever existed.

*

It was the last summer before he started high school: Andrew was thirteen and a half (give or take a few weeks) and there was a new family on their street. Abby dragged him, Renee and Dan over to meet the Spears, because Neil, Kevin, Matt and Seth had all gone off with Wymack to a PSU Exy match, whilst Aaron was out with Katelyn, his best friend. 

Andrew had been busy thinking about a conversation that he and Aaron had had earlier. 

“Katelyn is my best friend.” Aaron had said, getting dressed in a pair of Andrew’s jeans. Andrew had been too sleepy to correct him. “I think I would marry her.”

That made Andrew pause. Both Neil and Renee were his best friends, but he wouldn’t marry Renee. He would definitely marry Neil. Did that mean Neil was a better best friend than Renee? 

No, Renee always got him his favourite chocolates when he was feeling particularly upset, whilst Neil would try and steal them because they had raspberries in the centre. Renee was just as good as Neil. 

“Marriage is silly.” Andrew decided. Aaron dismissed his dramatics to skip down the stairs, kiss Abby goodbye on the cheek and run off to Katelyn’s house. 

Andrew and his siblings often walked past the house that now belonged to the Spears on their way to elementary school, but they’d never known the inhabitants until now. Dan lamented over how she wasn’t allowed to go to the Exy game—she had to babysit for the Alvarez’s after they got home from the Spears and was saving up for a new, heavier racket—all the way to the front door as Renee fiddled with her hair. She had just dyed it rainbow, with Andrew’s help. He thought it looked very good, but she was still getting used to it. 

Abby quietened Dan and rang the doorbell, her meagre attempt at a pie held out like an offering. The door opened. 

“Hi,” Said the smiling woman. She looked very nice. “I’m Cass! Welcome, come in, come in!” 

Andrew shuffled in last, taking off his shoes as directed and stuffing his hands into his pockets as he followed his foster family into the Spears’ living room. 

There was a small shift in movement as someone stepped out from the midst of moving boxes and furniture in disarray. 

He was much taller than Andrew and had dark hair and brown eyes. Really dark brown eyes. Almost black. He had a pretty smile too, of which was directed only at Andrew. He wore ripped jeans that Andrew definitely wished he had, a baggy t-shirt that showed off lots of muscle—how old was he?—and _piercings._

He looked really cool. Andrew sat down quickly as his cheeks reddened, knowing he’d been staring for too long. 

“Drake, there you are.” Cass bumbled and tittered. “This is Abby Winfield and her children. Abby, this is my son Drake. He’ll be going into his senior year at the same high school as yours. Will you join us for some tea and pie, Drake?”

“I could show them around.” Drake offered, gesturing towards Andrew. 

“I’ll save you some pie, Andrew.” Abby promised, smiling as Andrew bounced off the couch to follow Drake around. 

“What’s your name again?” Drake asked as he lit up a cigarette, leaning against the balustrade of his back porch. _So cool,_ Andrew thought, watching as smoke curled through the air. It was starting to get humid: He hoped he wasn’t bright red in the face. 

“Andrew Minyard.” He mumbled. 

“Middle name?” The older boy arched an eyebrow at him, leaning closer. 

“Joseph.” 

He smiled wanly, ruffling Andrew’s hair. “Alright, AJ. Shall I show you upstairs?”

*

When Andrew was thirteen years and eight months old, he broke down. 

He knew it was stupid. Stupid and wrong and painful, but he’d heard about other girls doing it, and it appealed to him in a way he just couldn’t understand or prevent. 

He didn’t know any boys who cut themselves. 

He also didn’t know any boys who had to change boxers and sheets when the blood seeped through, like they had their period. 

  
Andrew did not have his period. Andrew just had a demon living down the road. Andrew had Drake’s attention from the moment he’d stepped through the door: He just had no clue what Drake’s attention would cost.

It was hard hiding it from so many. There were three bathrooms but one of them was just for Abby and Wymack, so Andrew had to make sure the razor blade and the shower were clean. He only used black towels and clothes if he could help it. Bloody tissues were flushed down the toilet and—despite the blanket-like humidity and blistering sunshine—he only wore long sleeves. 

He didn’t change in his room, where Aaron, Neil, Nicky and Kevin all slept: If he did, it was under his sheets, or when he was already wearing something over the top.

He did his own washing. He threw out ruined linen and stole cash from Drake’s wallet to buy new sets for Abby before she noticed they were gone. 

Sitting in the bathtub, he watched as the little rivulets of blood trickled down the white porcelain. 

He might have gone too far today: It was alright. Didn’t hurt that bad. His lower back hurt worse: Burned, ached, throbbed in a way it never had before. He remembered when it’d happen as a child, before he and Aaron found each other again and arrived at Wymack’s. It was different. Andrew hadn’t understood what was happening.

Turns out: Understanding what was happening didn’t help the situation. In fact, it made things worse. 

Andrew sniffed, the tear rolling down his cheek to the tip of his nose. 

Someone knocked on the door of the bathroom. It was late in the evening. Everyone was meant to be in bed. 

“Busy,” Andrew called out, throat raw despite how silent he’d been all summer. 

“‘Drew?” Neil called, a little bit scared. “Are you okay?”

Andrew tried to bite down on his lip, but it didn’t do much in stifling the small sob that escaped from his chest. 

Neil opened the bathroom lock with ease—he’d learned how when Kevin was taking too much time in the bathroom in the mornings—and closed it quietly behind him. 

Andrew thought he’d be shocked, or scream, or start crying. He did none of those things. Instead, he took the blade from between Andrew’s fingers and threw it into the sink. Grabbing a wash cloth from under the sink cabinet, he dampened it and knelt beside the bath. 

Andrew leaned his head onto Neil’s shoulders as the boy carefully washed the blood off his forearms. No words were shared: It wasn’t really necessary. When Neil was done, he carefully linked his wiry arms around Andrew’s neck and pulled him close. 

They didn’t hug very often. Neil might have been one of the few people that Andrew let touch him, but still, those moments were far and few between. 

Today, though. Today wasn’t a normal day. It was all Andrew could do to stop himself from crushing Neil into his chest: Instead, he buried his face into the crook of Neil’s shoulders, and prayed that the weight on his shoulders would go away soon. 

*

When Andrew was thirteen years and nine months old, Drake Spear was drafted into the Marines. His parents moved to California. 

Andrew got a therapist. Her name was Betsy, and she liked hot cocoa just as much as he did. 

*

It was New Years Eve and Andrew had turned 14 little over a month ago. He trudged after his ridiculous family as they all skipped ahead, linking arms and singing terrible Christmas jingles at the top of their voices. 

“So embarrassing.” Seth muttered, hanging back like Andrew often did. Andrew liked to say he was indifferent to Seth, but at least he knew that Seth wouldn’t start making a ruckus when he walked in the room. 

Andrew simply nodded. 

When they arrived at the skating rink, Neil and Andrew laced up their shoes side-by-side and helped each other as they shuffled towards the rink. Andrew was sturdy on the ice: It was one of his and Renee’s favourite past times, but Neil’s balance had little substance. He was a newborn foal as soon as both feet were planted on the rink: Andrew had to guide him to the rim so he could find his footing. Eventually, Neil let Andrew lead him away from the fence with his hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. 

Neil, as usual, picked up on whatever he tried out hellishly fast. He challenged Andrew and Kevin to races, and Dan and Matt let him skate circles around them. He was full of energy and sometimes it drove Andrew absolute insane, but tonight there was something different. 

Maybe it was the moonlight. And the fairy lights. The whole rink was decorated to look like something from a Christmas romcom, which was both excessive and admittedly cute. Though Christmas had passed, the festivities wore on. Abby and Wymack cheersed over mulled wine (Kevin snuck a sip when he thought no one was looking) and Renee was talking Andrew’s ear off about how she’d love to kiss Allison at the stroke of midnight, where should she do it, should someone be taking a photo because Allison loved photos. They hadn’t kissed yet but already agreed they liked each other. 

It’d taken a damn long while for them to realise they liked each other, but that was none of Andrew’s business. He couldn’t talk for shit, anyway. Lately he’d been laying away at night wondering if Drake had broken him. Why didn’t he like to talk about girls the way everyone else did? Was he different? _Why_ did he have to be different? 

Neil skidded to a stop in front of Andrew with a Cheshire grin, taking him by the sleeve at his elbow. “C’mon. Hot cocoa.” 

Maybe it was just Andrew’s newfound appreciation for Neil. He’d always appreciated him—they’d been best friends for years, for fuck’s sake—but Neil’s Christmas gift this year just rendered Andrew speechless. He’d made arm bands for Andrew, black, perfect in size, and embroidered with Andrew’s favourite constellations. He’d even sewn in little sheaths for Andrew’s new butterfly knives, which Renee had bought him. They were comfortable—not itchy—and hid his scars. 

They were scars now. Every time he felt like relapsing he spun the butterfly knives around his fingers and looked to the armbands and remembered his family. 

He and Neil sat by the small kiosk and sipped on their hot chocolates. It wasn’t snowing—never snowed in South Carolina—but it was pretty cold. Neil got whipped cream on his red nose and Andrew swiped it off with his finger before sticking it in his mouth. 

“Gross,” Neil whispered, nudging their shoulders with a grin. Andrew just nodded, looking to the large TV over the ice rink that showed the ball dropping as the new year began. “Happy New Year, Andrew.” 

The next morning, Andrew woke up with Neil’s grin plastered to the backs of his eyelids and something distinctly sticky in his boxers. 

Revolted, he shuffled out of bed before no one else could wake up and ran to the shower, stuffing his messy boxers right to the bottom of the washing basket so that no one could see what’d happened. 

Whilst in the shower, a gentle tap came to the door. 

“Andrew?” Neil said, hesitant. “You good?”

“Great,” Andrew said weakly. “I’ll be out soon.”

Neil hummed out a sleepy ‘okay’ and retreated. Andrew sighed with relief, grimacing at his traitorous body. After all he’d gone through: Was he seriously _gay?_ And attracted to Neil, nonetheless? 

No. Impossible. It was just a fluke and would never happen again. Andrew would make sure of it. 

*

When Andrew was fourteen and a half, he looked up and was dismayed to discover that yes: Neil was, indeed, taller than him. 

Neil grinned with those bright blue eyes, cheeks hollow. He’d turned into this lanky thing, all his childhood pudginess vanishing with his growth spurt and all that work he put into the track events and Exy team. His legs were absolutely wrapped in muscles: Andrew wished he could say that he hadn’t noticed, but of course he’d had no say in the matter. 

Neil had no qualms about showing off his legs, intentionally or not intentionally. When he was at home he often stripped to his boxers, especially when close to going to sleep or when it was hot. He also spontaneously changed without warning, so Andrew would turn around in their bedroom to find Neil bent over in just a pair of old rocket-ship briefs. 

Worst of all were those goddamned running shorts that Dan had donated him. They were the _worst._ Andrew wanted to burn them. 

“I told you I’d be taller. Eventually.” Neil added. 

“You’re still not that tall.” Andrew sulked, falling back onto his bed with his arms crossed. Neil’s laugh sounded like a pearl as he threw his head back, eyes closed. Andrew watched the way his neck strained, the way his shoulders moved as he looked back to where Andrew was laid on his bed. 

Andrew averted his eyes.

Maybe this ‘gay’ thing was a problem that wasn’t going away. 

Shit. 

*

When Andrew was almost sixteen, (almost sixteen being the day before his birthday) he stumbled into his room after an exhausting day at school. He just wanted to hide away from everyone forevermore, but he lived in a house with eleven other people. Seth and Nicky had both graduated and lived on campus as PSU, but it wasn’t like they weren’t here every other day. Plus, Wymack was on the look out for younger kids to foster, now that everyone was moving up and out.

Andrew didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about his future. He didn’t want to think about his past. He didn’t want to _think._

“Andrew?”

He rose his head from where he’d collapsed against the door of his bedroom to see his twin doing the exact same thing, curled into a ball on his bed (they’d all spread out again now that Nicky and Seth weren’t living with them anymore). 

“Hi.” He said. 

“Hi.” 

They looked at each other. 

“Overwhelmed?”

“A little.” 

“Everyone’s very excited for tomorrow.”

“I’m not.”

“Neither.”

Andrew looked at his brother, who smiled, albeit it was more of a pathetic grimace. “Katelyn’s coming.”

He narrowed his eyes at Aaron. “And?”

“And I _kissed_ her two days ago!” He bemoaned. “And then I ran away, shut off my phone and have been praying that she doesn’t think I’m a weird freak.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Andrew scolded. “She’s been making gooey eyes since day one.” 

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t lie.” 

“But you evade.” Aaron pointed out. “What about you? You’re clearly in denial about Neil.”

“Fuck off.” He didn’t realise he was that obvious. 

Aaron held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying. You could do something about it rather than scampering off every time he waters the garden in just a tank top and those stupid shorts.”

“Those shorts.” Andrew agreed with a feeble nod. “I should burn them.”

“You should talk to him about it.” Aaron suggested. “See what he says.”

“No—I…” He couldn’t tell his brother that last _last_ summer he’d spent the entirety of eight or so weeks being used by a young man with pretty eyes and a fiendish smile, and that he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror to say _I’m gay_ without seeing hands and tongues and feral grins splattered across his vision. He could barely accept himself. No one knew about the extent of it, not even Betsy. To admit something to Neil would mean having to tell him everything. “I can’t—“

“If I can do it, you can do it.” Aaron insisted. “Though, maybe you should take a different approach to mine if tomorrow goes badly.” His face fell once more. “I can’t believe I _did that.”_

“I—“ Andrew choked. “I like someone else. Roland.” 

Aaron stared at him and then began cackling. “ _Roland?_ Like, muscle-y jock, Kevin fanatic Roland? Shit, you have a type, don’t you?”

Andrew was bright red. “Fuck _off,_ Aaron.”

“You’ll never get with him. He’s literally a meathead. A brick on muscled shoulders.”

“He’s not that bad.” Andrew muttered. They had drama together. Roland _was_ actually pretty cute, and interesting. He just paled in comparison to Neil. “I bet you I can get with him by winter break.”

“Ten bucks you won’t.” Aaron challenged, getting off the bed. Andrew held out his hand, letting Aaron help him up. They shook on it. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. 

*

When Andrew was sixteen and _almost_ one month old, he won a bet with his brother. A free ten dollars and a good looking guy to make-out with wasn’t a bad way to end the year, really. 

Roland was much more than a meat-head. He talked a bit much, but it just meant that Andrew didn’t really have to fill in the gaps. He was a backline on the Exy team because his dad insisted he should be, but he wanted nothing to do with the jock scene. When Andrew first kissed him he’d been a serious ‘no-homo’ kind of guy, but soon enough he was sure of his own attraction to guys. 

Or, at least, to Andrew. 

Andrew wouldn’t let Roland touch him. Andrew had to be in control. It was fun until it got too intense, and Andrew would have to shove Roland out of the room (or the toilet cubicle, or the car, or out of the alleyway behind school where he’d smoke sometimes) to press the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“No, Andrew.” Abby said firmly. “Roland’s not coming on Christmas day: It’s family time. He can come the day after, though.”

“Listen to your mother.” Wymack said from behind the newspaper. 

Andrew stomped off but was secretly pleased. He wanted to spend more time with Neil. If Abby told him no, he wouldn’t have to lie to Roland to get himself some free time. 

Neil appeared at the doorway to their bedroom just as Andrew was adjusting his armbands. 

“Roland?”

“Friend.” He said curtly. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.” Neil answered, retreating and slamming the door behind him. Andrew sighed. Neil sometimes did this: He usually took a few hours to go out for a jog and work through it in his head before coming to Andrew with it. The last time they’d really fought was when Neil said he wanted to go see his mother. 

The day after Christmas Day (Andrew had bought Neil a new set of court shoes and engraved _Abram_ and _junkie_ into the soles. Neil had given Andrew a keyring he’d modelled of Dr Jekyll/Mr Hyde from Andrew’s favourite novella, as well as a new set of armbands. It was becoming customary) Andrew was lightly treading up the stairs with Roland in tow. 

His mind had been ticking. He didn’t want a relationship. Roland was cute, but Andrew couldn’t fathom opening up another slot in his life for someone else. The mere thought of it was exhausting: He’d fell asleep early last night (not helped by the enormous Christmas lunch) because he’d overworked his brain whilst lying on his bed, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that he’d placed into the shape of the archer. 

He closed the door behind Roland, who was grinning at him expectantly. 

“This isn’t serious.” Andrew blurted out. “I don’t want it to be.”

“Oh,” Roland blinked. Then he shrugged. “I mean, it’s kinda obvious you’re just trying to distract yourself from someone else.”

“Shut up.” Andrew ground out, stalking forward.

“I never meant for it to get serious: I’m just figuring myself out.” Roland promised.

“Good.” Andrew pressed him back till he tripped over an errant shoe and fell onto Andrew’s bed: It was such a familiar place that Andrew could relax here. If he closed his eyes tight enough, he could pretend that he had Neil pinned underneath him. 

What would Andrew do if it _was_ Neil? 

He’d probably be far more gentle. Neil didn’t need to be coddled, but he was just as abrasive as Andrew away: They chafed each other away until something kinder was revealed. He’d link their fingers together above Neil’s head, press his palms into the pillow. He might even let him hold his shoulders, link his fingers behind Andrew’s neck. He tended to do that on those rare occasions where they hugged. 

Andrew would absolutely let Neil wind his legs around his hips. Those stupid legs. He’d watched them skid down a slip-n-slide in the backyard as kids, cartwheeling around when they went to a lake-side cabin for a week-long vacation, stretching before his Exy games. Like when he was stumbling around on an ice-rink and laughing his head off. That was almost a year ago. Or when he, Kevin and Matt raced around in their boxers and socks on the polished wooden floors downstairs. That was only a few days ago. 

But no: Here Andrew was, kissing Roland with needless force as he gripped Roland by the wrists and straddled the tops of his thighs. Brief kisses to the boy’s throat and a hastily whispered exchange of consent had Andrew reaching for the buttons on Roland’s jeans. They’d done this a few times too. Roland had no idea Andrew had never done it before, but Andrew was pretty sure he’d managed to fool him well enough. Andrew watched as his head fell back to rest on the pillow before he went for the elastics of his briefs—

“What the fuck?”

Andrew was stood upright in an instant, tugging down his shirt and cross his arms. He was most definitely bright red but forced his facade of apathy. 

“Hello,” Roland said, sitting up as he redid his jeans. He seemed calm, even though he was being stared at by a mildly infuriated Neil Josten, of whom was on the same team as him at school and was the brother of Kevin Day. Neil Josten, the infamous instigator. “Are you good, Neil?”

“Fine.” Neil said. “Get out of my room.”

Roland grinned at Andrew and whispered ‘Oops’ as he passed by. Neil shut the door behind him and didn’t turn back around. 

“What’s your problem?” Andrew managed. “Suddenly homophobic?”

“Just surprising.” Neil managed. “Didn’t exactly expect to see my best friend and my teammate making out in my room.”

“It’s my room too.” 

Neil crossed his arms, still turned away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I haven’t told anyone.” Except Aaron. And Betsy. And obviously Roland. And probably Nicky. 

“I—“ He sounded pained. “You’ve been avoiding me so much lately—is that why? Because you have a boyfriend you didn’t want me to know about?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Andrew said petulantly. “And I would have told you. Maybe. Eventually. Why do you even care?”

“Because!” Neil stomped his foot like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum and turned around. “I’m your best friend. I’m meant to protect you. When you hide stuff you get hurt! Like—Drake.” He sniffed. 

Andrew froze. “What about Drake?”

  
Neil looked exasperated. “You think I didn’t know what was happening?”

“You never said.” Andrew said weakly.

“I just tried to be there for you. I didn’t know what to do. You didn’t have Betsy yet and I knew you would never forgive me if I went to Aaron or Mom or Dad or the police…” He trailed off, then grit his teeth. “But I knew that I never wanted to see you hurt again. Ever.”

“You can’t keep me locked up in a tower, Gothel.” Andrew snapped. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” Neil hissed.

Andrew finally looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well—“ He floundered. “I—I guess I thought maybe you finding someone you liked would separate us a bit. A lot. I mean, I don’t know. I can’t just _stop_ you from getting a boyfriend, just because I don’t want to be lonely, but you’re my best friend, Drew. Who else is there for me when you’re gone? No one.” 

“Neil…”

“And I don’t really know what any of this means,” He continued, growing flustered. “I get so confused when I’m with you. Around you. I don’t know why. You’ve always made things clearer but now—and when you were hurting last year I was angry at _him_ before I even knew what he was doing to you because he was using up all our time. And then I figured it out and wanted to bash his head in, but he left and you worked on being okay but all the while I’ve been so torn—“ He covered his face with his hands. “When you asked Mom to have Roland over on Christmas I wanted to hit something. Preferably Roland. I don’t know why.”

“So—“

“I get so warm and flustered thinking about you, Andrew.” He whispered. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known. What does that _mean?_ What does any of this _mean?_ ” 

“Are you _jealous?”_ Andrew asked, incredulous. 

Neil just blinked, slowly processing Andrew’s statement.

He soldiered on whilst Neil’s mouth was still shut. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you say yes?” 

Neil looked at him for a few achingly long moments, before saying a slow, careful: “I think so.”

“Okay.” Andrew said. 

“Okay.” Neil echoed. 

A frigid moment passed. Then—

Neil dissolved into ugly laughter, hands covering his face as he buckled and fell back onto Andrew’s bed. Andrew followed him, a little light-headed and grinning with ridiculousness of it all. Neil had his arms thrown up over his eyes, his absent-minded little smile visible from where Andrew was propped up on his side. 

Andrew dragged his hands away from his face: Neil gazed up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. Not even ten minutes ago, Andrew was dreaming of doing this. He slowly leaned down and grazed a kiss to Neil’s cheekbone, at the corner of his eye. Neil let his eyes flutter closed, red lashes fanned out across his freckled cheeks. 

Andrew settled back onto his bed, hand resting between them. Neil curled onto his side to match his position and took their fingers, intertwining them together. _He’s holding my hand, he’s holding my hand, he’s holding my—_

“This makes more sense.” Neil muttered, mildly embarrassed at his own dramatics and word vomit. 

“You once asked me if the Bachelor was a bunch of people trying to make friends.” Andrew let his fingertips brush over the shell of his ear. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

*

When he was sixteen years and about two months old, Andrew kissed Neil for the first time over hot cocoa at the ice rink, just like he’d (unknowingly) wanted to last year. It was chaste and chapped but Andrew got to then lick the whipped cream off the tip of Neil’s nose under the guise of kissing him on the cheek. 

“Gross,” Neil said, grinning. 

“You’re both gross.” Aaron muttered from nearby, the unfortunate soul who would have to share a room with Andrew and Neil as they progressed into the future together. 

Yeah. Andrew was sixteen and two months, and he was pretty fucking happy. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to tag it as 'the fluffiest thing ever' but then i remembered the drake stuff in the middle of this and realised im incapable of writing about andrew without making him suffer.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed! i love kid!fics tbh they're so wholesome (but also sad, poor neil)


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